by Lee Goldberg
"We can rent a couple tuxedos and do a screen test," Otto said.
"Make all the girls wet." Burt dipped a french fry in what he thought was steak sauce on Otto's plate.
"What I was thinking was more along the lines of doing them a favor," Eddie said.
"We would be doing 'em a favor," replied Burt.
Otto and Burt promptly broke into a fit of snorting, nasal laughter that drew the attention of just about everybody.
Eddie was thankful to see the waiter setting his drink down. He abruptly knocked it back, and felt tears coming to his eyes. Why had he brought them here? He could have impressed them some other way without humiliating himself in front of the entire industry.
Then again, what did he care? Soon he'd own the fucking industry. And he needed Otto and Burt to do it. So he laughed along with them.
"Wit, charm, sophistication," Eddie said. "You guys got it all."
"Too cool for words," Otto said. noticing his bloody finger for the first time. When the hilarity died down, and the other diners returned to their meals, Eddie got serious once again.
"You want the big boys to owe you something, so you do 'em a little favor," Eddie explained. "Next thing you know, you got a twenty-two episode order for Sunn of a Gunn."
"What's the favor?" Otto tied the napkin around his thumb as an impromptu bandage.
"Nothing really." Eddie lowered his voice, making sure no one was listening. "All you got to do is kill Boo Boo."
"The dog?" Burt asked.
"Yeah," Eddie replied. "The dog."
"No problem," Otto shrugged. "It's cheaper than buying beef."
Revised Network Primetime
Schedule for Thursday and Sunday
THURSDAY
New shows in bold, new time slots in italic
MBC -Monumental Broadcasting Company
8-9 pm JOHNNY WILDLIFE
9-10 pm DEDICATED DOCTORS
10-11 pm FRANKENCOP
UBC -United Broadcasting Company
8-8:30 pm BOO BOO'S DILEMMA
8:30-9 pm ENERGIZER BUNNY
9-9:30 pm BROAD SQUAD
9:30-10 pm THE ANSON WILLIAMS SHOW
10-11 pm MISS AGATHA
DBC -Dynamic Broadcasting Company
8-8:30 pm ADOPTED FAMILY
8:30- 9 pm MY WIFE NEXT DOOR
9-10 pm YOUNG HUDSON HAWK
10-11 pm THE TWO DICKS
SUNDAY
MBC
8-9 pm HONEYMOONERS: THE NEXT GENERATION
9-10 pm SHERIFF OF MARS
10-11pm SLEEPWALKER
UBC
8-8:30 Rappy Scrappy
8:30- 9pm It's All Relative!
9-9:30 pm Smart Alec
9:30-10 pm MatchMusic
10-11pm Socially Relevant
DBC
8-9 pm RED HIGHWAY
9-11 pm MOVIE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
UBC Disarms My Gun, Revamps Sked
My Gun Has Bullets has been pulled from its coveted slot on UBC's blockbuster Thursday schedule, and in a move that has stunned industry insiders, will be replaced by Miss Agatha, a fixture on Sunday nights for years.
The fate of My Gun Has Bullets remains unclear, although production has ceased indefinitely. LAPD investigators seem convinced the shooting of actor Darren Clarke by star Charlie Willis was accidental, citing a lack of any clear motive for foul play, though the investigation continues.
Police are concentrating their attention on the late Floyd "Itchy" Matthews, the property master best known for his work on Birth of a Nation, who died of a massive coronary the afternoon of the tragedy.
UBC has been attempting to shore up sagging demographics by adding sexy femme Sabrina (Torrid Embrace) Bishop to the Miss Agatha cast, and skewing the storylines to a younger audience. The move is seen as a way to halt any erosion in the Thursday sked as a result of the tragedy. New episodes will begin airing in two weeks. In the meantime, the web will fill the My Gun Has Bullets slot with unsold pilots.
The cops on DBC's Blacke and Whyte are now The Two Dicks, irreverent PIs based in Jamaica, though pundits predict it won't save the skein from Miss Agatha. Funeral notices are also expected for MBC's Frankencop.
The Thursday hits Rappy Scrappy and Smart Alec are being moved to Sundays, where UBC hopes to clone its Thursday success story and steal some momentum from DBC's Red Highway and sound the death knell for MBC's Honeymooners: The Next Generation.
Rappy Scrappy will kick off the night, leading into the new McLean Stevenson sitcom It's All Relative, about an extended family forced to live in a cramped Miami condo, followed by Smart Alec at nine, and the struggling Tuesday night sitcom Matchmaker. Buttressed between two hits, UBC head Don DeBono expects It's All Relative to be strong enough by season's end to carry a new night next year. The new drama Socially Relevant, about a team of caring social workers led by Sharon Gless, fills the ten o'clock hour. Rappy Scrappy and Smart Alec are being replaced on Thursday by Energizer Bunny and The Anson Williams Show, a move seen as a last-ditch effort to save the ailing skeins.
There wasn't a single business in Los Angeles that didn't have at least one autographed photo of a celebrity patron on its walls. It didn't matter how big or small the star, just as long as you had a glossy or two to display.
The vacuum cleaner joint could boast that it regularly replaced Shirley Jones's lint-filled bags. Lost in Space's Dr. Smith rented the latest videos at the Wherehouse ("Your videos are out of this world!"). Superboy had his shirts pressed at Sally's Dry Cleaner ("You do a super job!"). Chuck Norris grazed the salad bar at Souplantation ("I get a kick out of your salads"). And Alec Baldwin liked the spaghetti at Filippo's, a narrow Italian restaurant tucked into the fold of a street corner mini-mall in the Valley.
So did Charlie, who wondered if Alec kept a stack of glossies with him at all times, ready to whip one out to any merchant who asked. Charlie speared his last meatball with his fork, and studying the wall of photos as he chewed, realized no one had ever asked him for his picture. He thought about offering one to Filippo, just for the fun of it, but decided he didn't want to risk having it refused.
Besides, the only photos he had of himself were a couple of Instamatic shots that Connie had taken, mostly of Charlie cooking at the BBQ grill or sleeping face-down in bed, twisted in the sheets, his butt exposed. Connie once spent an evening with a pair of scissors and Elmer's glue, making him a collage of BBQ and butt shots, which she proudly presented to him with great fanfare when he got home from patrol. The collage sparked a lot of laughs and love-making for a night or two, before it was put in the closet forever.
The bell above Filippo's door jangled as Detective Lou LeDoux blew into the restaurant, his pants clashing with the red-checked tablecloths and creating an instantaneous eyesore. He had always had that effect, sparking a violent conflict of pattern and color that assaulted the optic nerves of anyone within a glance. LeDoux felt one should stand out from the crowd, and dress accordingly. The least you could say was that he succeeded.
"Sorry I'm late," Lou said, settling into a seat opposite Charlie. "This old pervert was feeling up girls in the public pool out in Canoga Park. I was in the middle of arresting him and his brain exploded."
Charlie rubbed his temples. He could sympathize.
"Some vein just went pop," Lou added. "Is that what happened to you?"
"Could you please take off your jacket?" Charlie asked.
"Because that's the only explanation I can think of that explains why ..." Lou continued, leaning close, his smile transforming into a tight grimace, "... you're being so monumentally fucking stupid."
"I'll explain everything," Charlie said patiently, trying to not look at him. It gave him a headache. "If you'll just take off your jacket."
"That's it, isn't it? You've gone fucking nuts." Lou admired the fine cut of his blue-and-yellow-checked masterpiece. "This is a beautiful jacket, any sane person could see that."
"Take it off," Charlie im
plored. "Please."
"Let me guess." Lou took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. "My jacket is sending messages to the mother ship."
"No, but I'm sure it can be seen from earth's orbit." Charlie was relieved that Lou LeDoux was wearing a plain white shirt underneath his hideous jacket. It was much easier on the eyes. He could think clearly again. "Lou, I need your help."
"I can't help you," Lou said. "You're too far gone. You need somebody who can prescribe drugs."
"I admit I may have stepped over the line—"
"Stepped over the line?" Lou interrupted incredulously. "You dug it up with a bulldozer. First you blow away some schmuck, then you go on national TV like some paranoid fuck and threaten to kill anyone who gets in your way. But is that enough? No, you got to go impersonate a police officer."
"That's what they pay me for," Charlie said wryly. LeDoux wasn't impressed with Charlie's wit.
"Do they pay you to ride along on a robbery-in-progress call?" Lou sneered. He had Charlie there. Charlie thought about explaining himself—that he stumbled into it only to avoid being recognized by Detective Emil Grubb, but that would only make things worse.
"The only reason I don't arrest you right now is that Flanek is taking credit for the bust," Lou LeDoux said, "and if I hauled your ass in, it would make the LAPD look like a bunch of clowns."
"And because I'm a brother to you," Charlie said.
"Brother-in-law," Lou shot back. "There's a big difference."
''Yeah,'' Charlie said. "For one thing, you couldn't sleep with my sister."
"Who says I am?" Lou said. "Thanks to you, not only is my career dying, so's my sex life."
"That'll change when you become a national hero," Charlie said. "Your career will soar and Zoe won't beable to keep her hands off you."
"Uh-huh." Lou leaned back in his chair. "And how does this miracle happen?"
Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag containing his bullet. He dangled it in his brother-in-Iaw's face. "You take this bullet and solve a murder."
The truth about Charlie's transformation from real police officer to a fictional one was known only to a few agents, lawyers, Boyd Hartnell, Don DeBono and, of course, Esther Radcliffe. Lou LeDoux only knew that Charlie had been shot by some unidentified assailant, and that a casting agent, in the hospital for a boob job and tummy tuck, discovered him in the solarium, and immediately cast him in the My Gun Has Bullets pilot.
So Charlie began by telling Lou LeDoux the truth, that it was Esther Radcliffe who had gunned him down, and that his memory lapse was paid for with a television series. Then Charlie worked his way up to the good part.
"Esther Radcliffe switched my prop gun with her own, and this bullet proves it," Charlie said. "It matches the slugs pulled from Darren Clarke, the actor I shot. Now, all you have to do is arrest her for murder and grab all the glory."
Charlie waited to be forgiven, congratulated, and praised by his cynical brother-in-law. Instead, Lou LeDoux stared expressionlessly at Charlie for a long moment before speaking.
"Let me see if I got this straight," Lou said evenly. "You got shot by Esther Radcliffe, then you lied about it to get a TV series. So you're a lying fuck. Then this lady for reasons unknown—"
"I think she thinks I'm blackmailing her," Charlie interrupted. "But I'm not."
"Whatever," Lou continued. "She switches your prop gun for her gun, and you go and blow away your guest star. You stick your face in a news camera and tell the world you're gonna blow away whoever did this to you. That makes you a crazy lying fuck."
Charlie started to interrupt, as he didn't like where this conversation was going, but Lou held up his hand, as if stopping traffic. ''Then you impersonate a police officer and tamper with police evidence."
"I had to compare my bullet with one from Darren Clarke," Charlie said, suddenly feeling on the defensive and angry about it. Why should he have to defend himself? He was bringing a murderer to justice and letting his brother-in-law take all the glory.
"And, as long as you were there, you went on a robbery call," Lou said. "That makes you a felonious crazy lying fuck."
Lou LeDoux started laughing. "And you expect me to arrest Esther Radcliffe based on that?"
"It's the truth," Charlie said desperately.
"Doesn't matter, it's a joke." Lou was still laughing. "Even if there was an incompetent D.A. who'd take it to court, and a brain-dead judge who'd hear the case, the bullet would be thrown out as inadmissible, now that you've tampered with the evidence. And as far as your accusations about Esther Radcliffe go, who's gonna corroborate your story? You? You're the least credible witness possible. So, who's the jury gonna believe? A sweet old lady loved by millions or you, a felonious crazy lying fuck?"
"She's guilty, Lou."
"Whoop-dee-doo," he said.
Charlie pocketed the bullet, feeling like a fool. Lou was right, he'd botched it. The whole case depended on a jury believing him, believing that Esther Radcliffe shot him in the stomach because she was late for a sale at Neiman Marcus.
Of course, that's not what he told the police then. No, he said he didn't remember anything. He couldn't possibly identify his attacker. But now, he goes and kills someone, and his memory miraculously returns.
Whoa, it's all coming back to me now. I know who shot me, it was Miss Agatha. And guess what, she killed this guy, too.
"You're right, Lou. But if this were television, it wouldn't be a problem," Charlie said. "The audience would buy it."
Lou studied his fuck-up brother-in-law, and took pity on him. He tossed Charlie a bone.
"You had some fun, made some money, and you're staying out of jail," Lou said. "It could be a lot worse."
Charlie was thinking about Esther Radcliffe passing out cookies while, somewhere in Los Angeles, Darren Clarke's family was grieving. He couldn't ignore what she had done, or let her get away with it just because he made some mistakes.
"Zoe loved your show, taped every single episode," Lou said, getting Charlie's attention.
"Really?" Charlie was surprised and more than a bit touched. Charlie and his sister had fallen out of touch since he left home, escaped really, to go to the police academy. For a while she blamed him for leaving her alone; then when she got away, she replaced him with a cop of her own. They saw each other once or twice a year, but the closeness they had as children had become a distance that widened with each passing year.
"I think she believes you really are Derek Thorne," Lou said. "Then again, she thinks Lucy and Ricky Ricardo were a real couple."
"They were, Lou."
Lou LeDoux ignored the remark and fished in his jacket pocket for a card. He handed it to Charlie. "I got a friend, works for this outfit that handles mall security. He's always got a job for an ex-cop."
"That include ex-TV cops?" Charlie tossed the card back to LeDoux. "I appreciate the thought, Lou, but I'm not ready to give up yet."
"Haven't you been listening? You're never gonna nail her for murder."
"No, probably not," Charlie said. "But I will bring her down. She's a killer, and if she gets away with this, eventually she's going to hurt someone else."
Suddenly, the image of Sabrina Bishop, in her tight leather outfit, flitted across his psyche. The poor girl was doomed. He had to stop Esther before she did anything to Sabrina.
"I don't want to hear it." Lou abruptly slipped on his jacket and got up. "I'm forced to be your brother-in-law, I don't have to be an accomplice."
"You have nothing to worry about," Charlie said. "I won't be breaking the law."
Esther Radcliffe had a secret, something so embarrassing she was willing to pay someone $50,000 to keep it quiet. Charlie was going to find out what that secret was.
"If it's anything like your brilliant moves so far, I'm sure I'll be hearing about it." Lou headed for the door, pausing for a moment before stepping outside. "Try to remember, Charlie, this is reality now."
Charlie watched his b
rother-in-law walk away and thought it was probably a good time for a commercial break.
# # #
Jack Blacke and Bobby Whyte were two irreverent cops who tackled crime with humor and rugged good looks. They were the Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid of the LAPD, burning up the streets in their Mustang convertible, knocking bad guys senseless with a dizzying display of fast fists and even faster one-liners. And whether they were dodging bullets or bons mots, they always found time to seduce the beautiful women they inevitably encountered in their action-packed, carefree lives of heroic derring-do.
The on-screen chemistry and incredible pecs of the actors who played the two cops, Clive Martindale and Marc Thompson, accounted for what little appeal Blacke and Whyte had in its first thirteen episodes against Frankencop and My Gun Has Bullets. To capitalize on it, the network was going to send the two of them to Jamaica where, as The Two Dicks, they could banter and investigate shirtless and in shorts.
Perhaps as practice, the two dicks were bantering and investigating one another, naked in Clive Martindale's redwood hot tub, surrounded by the tall trees, complete darkness, and reassuring isolation of Topanga Canyon.
The same elements were working against them and in Delbert Skaggs's favor as he casually let himself in the front door of Martindale's rustic A-frame and quietly shut the door behind him. Plastic bags over his shoes and rubber gloves on his hands, he looked more comical than deadly, proving the old adage that looks could be deceiving.
As he strolled through the house, checking the rooms for other occupants, his mind was not on the two lovers frolicking in the burbling hot tub outside. They were going to be easy. So easy, in fact, he didn't bother to bring any tools of the trade—he'd just take 'em on the fly.
No, his mind was on the pleasures of delegating. It was a new experience for him, and he liked it. Because, in order to delegate, you had to have someone to delegate to, and that meant you had to have some kind of authority. He had never had authority before. Even if it was only over a moron like Eddie Planet, it was still a heady feeling for him.
